


What Are Brothers For?

by poselikeateam



Series: Vampire Bards (and the Witchers Who Love Them) [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Big brother Eskel, Blood Drinking, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet the Family, Misunderstandings, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Siblings, Siblings, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28880472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: When Eskel smells blood, and hears Lambert's voice, he assumes the worst. He rushes to his brother's aid, thinking he'll find the younger man fighting off some would-be attacker. What he does not expect is to meet Lambert's new boyfriend.[ETA: I accidentally clicked Greek when I meant to click English. This fic is, in fact, in English. I do not speak Greek]
Relationships: Eskel/Priscilla (The Witcher), Lambert/Valdo Marx
Series: Vampire Bards (and the Witchers Who Love Them) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892647
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	What Are Brothers For?

It starts like these things usually do: in an entirely unremarkable moment on a perfectly normal day. Eskel and Priscilla are walking through the woods — the terrain isn't exactly built for horses, so they'd stabled Scorpion a few towns back. Once they make their way back around, they'll pick him up, and head in the other direction. For now, though, they travel in their wide circle, just the two of them. 

Priscilla is chattering beside him, sometimes stopping to ask for his opinion, and rarely even waiting for him to give it before continuing to prattle on. She gets like this, sometimes. He doesn't mind. If he actually had something to say, it's not like she wouldn't allow it, and it's not like he'd let himself be silenced if she didn't. This is just part of her creative process, and his input isn't required.

His attention also isn't required, and though he does do his best to give it, he finds his attention drifting, her voice becoming a pleasant background noise. She won't be offended if he asks her to repeat herself, though she might needle him a bit for it. He needs to stay at least somewhat alert, aware of their surroundings in some capacity. One never knows, after all, what might be hiding in the woods.

Perhaps this is why he's able to hear it. It's faint, far enough from the beaten path that he wouldn't be able to hear it without his enhanced senses. He pauses, for a moment, and Priscilla stops next to him, quieting. She probably thinks that he's sensed some danger. Perhaps, in a sense, he has, because he smells blood, and he hears two voices. Without hers in the mix, he can hear better. More than that, he can hear the words.

His initial thought was correct: one of those voices belongs to Lambert. This isn't where the younger witcher usually goes this time of year, but it's not unreasonable to assume that he just changed his plans due to any number of reasons — lack of work, negative attitude (towards witchers, or of his own), or even just boredom. The other voice, though, is unfamiliar to him. 

"Ow, fuck off!" snarls Lambert. "I told you, _no!"_

The other voice growls back, "Stop struggling, witcher! Don't make me tie you down—"

Eskel doesn't pause to think, instead drawing his sword and rushing off towards the source of the disturbance, ignoring Priscilla's protests and her attempts at asking him just what is going on. While he usually doesn't do anything without some plan of action, sometimes he doesn't have that luxury. It's not like he isn't able to think on his feet, or he wouldn't still be around. Right now, at least from his perspective, Lambert is injured, and he's in trouble. Bandits, maybe? It's not like Lambert to let some human get the drop on him, but maybe he was already injured. Maybe he was just careless. Things happen, but nothing is going to happen to Lambert if Eskel has any say in it. 

Only, when Eskel barrels into the clearing that has clearly been made into his brother's campsite, he doesn't see an injured Lambert, fighting for his life against some rapacious marauder. Instead, he sees Lambert, holding his sluggishly bleeding forearm to his chest. A few feet from him is not a bandit, but a well-dressed man; and he wields not a sword, dagger, or axe, but a roll of bandages and a bottle of clear alcohol. 

The clearing is silent. Eskel, dumbfounded and a little embarrassed, stands there, sword in hand, and stares. Lambert and the man — musician, judging by the lute sitting just off to the side — stare back.

Moments later, Priscilla's voice filters through the foliage, coming closer. Leaves crunch under her feet as she complains, "Eskel, what in the world did you run off for? You never—" She cuts off abruptly, and when Eskel looks at her, just behind him, her eyes are wide with surprise, red lips forming a perfect 'o'. "Valdo!?" 

The name is familiar, in some distant way that he can't quite place... until he does, very suddenly, when the musician that's trying to patch up his brother clears his throat rather awkwardly. "Cousin," he says, stilted and formal. “You look well.”

Oh. _That_ Valdo. 

Priscilla has mentioned her cousin before, and Eskel had thought that, from her description, he seemed a bit like Lambert. He may have thought, in the moment, that the two of them were similar enough to never be able to get along, were they ever to meet. Clearly, that is not the case.

It's another brief fraction of a moment before the rest of Eskel's brain catches up to him. Valdo is Priscilla's cousin. That means that he's— Shit. Does Lambert know what he's travelling with? Because, to Eskel, it's pretty clear that they _are_ travelling _together_. There's a stark contrast between Lambert's things and Valdo's, but they're not separated, as they might be if the two of them had just run into each other. In fact, based on how mixed-together their personal belongings are, Eskel is willing to bet that they've been companions for a good while, now. Still, that doesn't give him any indication of whether Lambert is aware that his travelling partner is a vampire. Gods, just look at Geralt! He hadn't known that his bard was a vampire for _decades_. 

Then, he notices yet another thing. 

Well, it's more a series of things, one after the other. He'd already been aware of the scent of blood, and that Lambert's arm was injured. When he looks just a little more closely, he notices that Lambert isn't cradling his injury as much as he seems to be hiding it. Still, Eskel sees not a slice, gash, or any other gaping wound. It doesn't look like a monster or man got him. No, there are only two perfect punctures, when Eskel manages a glimpse of his brother's wound. Eskel is willing to bet that it's rather intricately connected to the flush high on Valdo's cheeks. A hint of nervousness permeates the younger Wolf's scent, as his eyes sweep between the other three people at the campsite. Briefly, Eskel wonders if Lambert is thinking the same thing he is: _does he know just what his companion is?_

"You should really let him take a look at that," Eskel says after a long, seemingly-infinite moment. "Do you know how filthy mouths are?" 

Valdo's lips quirk up, the barest hint of a smile. He looks a little tipsy, as well as like he's trying very hard to hold himself together and pretend he isn't. "I daresay, Master Witcher, his mouth is a fair bit dirtier than mine."

"Suck my dick," Lambert growls, kicking dirt at the musician, proving him right in the process.

If it bothers Valdo, he doesn't show it. He merely raises one eyebrow and drawls, "Really, here? With an audience? Bit naughty, even for you, isn't it?"

Now, witchers are unable to blush. It's a biological fact. Their drastically slowed heart rates simply don't allow for it. That being said, Eskel has been a witcher for a rather long time, and has known Lambert for nearly as long. Just because Lambert can't blush, doesn't mean Eskel can't very easily tell when he would be, if he could. This is absolutely one of those times. If Lambert were a normal, human man (insofar as Lambert can be _normal_ in any capacity, that is) he would be a brighter red than Eskel's armour. 

If there were any doubts as to the nature of their relationship, well, Eskel's pretty confident he knows what's going on between them now. To be fair, it was obvious as soon as Eskel’s blind worry dissipated. Of all of them, Lambert is the least likely to put up with anyone for too long — including that Cat of his — and even less likely if they’re in the Bestiary. 

Gods, he thinks, what are the odds that all three of them would end up with higher vampires, let alone all from the same family? At this rate he almost wouldn’t be surprised to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter to see Vesemir and Priscilla’s mother making doe-eyes at each other. 

It’s not a thought he particularly likes, and he pushes it away with a little shudder. _Vesemir_ and _doe-eyes_ do _not_ go together. 

Priscilla’s eyes sparkle with mirth and mischief, and Eskel already knows that whatever she’s thinking, it’s either going to make him laugh, or give him a headache. Could be both, really. “You know,” she says, looking far too pleased, “it’s nearly winter. My dearest Eskel has invited me along with him; will we be seeing the two of you?” 

Lambert goes pale, just a little, and Eskel can smell the faint alarm even as his brother’s scowl deepens. The younger Wolf is… it’s not so much that he’s _private_ as it is that he’s bad at dealing with emotions. Eskel is willing to bet that whatever this is between them, it’s not necessarily _new_ , but he knows that it doesn’t mean he’ll take too kindly to being confronted with it. 

“No pressure, of course,” Priscilla says, her expression softening. Perhaps she’s seeing the same thing Eskel is. “It’s just, well, it would be nice to catch up, wouldn’t it? And to get to know Eskel’s brothers? Oh, forgive me! I haven’t introduced myself, how _rude!_ ” And there she goes, changing the subject so artfully that she simply barrels past any awkwardness. He supposes this is what it’s like, being in love with a performer, but it still intrigues him each time she’s able to talk and flirt her way through even the most difficult social situations. 

Now, Priscilla gives a little curtsy. “I’m Priscilla. Valdo’s cousin, Eskel’s lover, trobairitz of considerable renown.”

“Lambert,” growls the witcher in question, looking about as bewildered as Eskel would have expected. 

“Oh, I know,” she says, not unkindly. “Eskel’s told me so much about you, you know — good things, I assure you!” 

“I told her you were the biggest asshole I’ve ever met,” Eskel cuts in. That, at least, makes Lambert snort, amused. 

“Good. Don’t need you fucking up my reputation,” the youngest says. 

“He said the same thing to me,” Valdo confesses, clearly still somewhat more tipsy than he seems to realise, “after the song I wrote him.”

“No, nope, we’re not doing this!” says Lambert, one hand now clasped firmly over Valdo’s mouth. “Fuck’s sake. Nice as this has been, you can fuck off now.” 

Eskel can’t help but laugh. He’s sure it doesn’t help the situation _at all_ , but what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t? One with no sense of humour, he supposes. 

“You’re right,” says Eskel, walking over and clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Glad you’re doing alright. See you this winter, yeah?”

“It’ll be so nice to see the both of you there!” Priscilla adds, grinning brightly. 

The look on Lambert’s face wouldn’t look out of place on a man who’d just been sentenced to death, Eskel thinks. He knows that they’re probably both thinking the same thing: now, Lambert is going to _have_ to invite him.

Eskel knows that the two of them are serious about each other. Honestly, he can’t deal with another winter of pining. He had enough of that from Geralt to last a fucking lifetime, thanks very much. He knows what Lambert is like, and feels very confident in his assessment that Lambert’s simply too chickenshit to bring his boyfriend home. If he doesn’t have that little outside intervention, he’s never going to do it, and he’s just going to make himself — and everyone around him — miserable until someone knocks some sense into him. It’s how he’s always been. Admittedly, witchers of the Wolf School are, broadly speaking, fucking awful at accepting good things as they come. They’re shit at being happy. Eskel knows that all too well. He’s working on it in himself; it’s only fair that he helps Lambert do the same.

If that means he has to bully him a little bit, well, what else are older brothers for?


End file.
